Extracts of an Old War
by Poasoianne
Summary: Ever wondered who would win a war between muggles and wizards? These are snapshots of what it could be like, for civilians and the soldiers that fight. A clear bias towards muggles (they are us, after all). Please note that some extracts may be distressing for children- war is never kind. Rated T, for quite obvious reasons.


Author's note: I do not own Harry Potter. A word of warning about this fic- update are going to be really slow, because I'm not completely sure where I'm going with it. You might get a little confused, so make sure to read the times and locations- those are pretty important.

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><p><span>13th January 2158 9:56<span>

**We shall go on to the end. We shall fight in France, we shall fight on the seas and oceans, we shall fight with growing confidence and growing strength in the air, we shall defend our island, whatever the cost may be. We shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills; we shall never surrender.**

"And now the time for war is due again!" The President stood on the raised platform, his voice amplified across the crowds. "It will cost us lives, it will cost us men and women. It will cost us innocents, civilians, and inevitably, children. This will cost us our peace and tranquility- but, what you and every other man on this planet must remember, is that what we gain is so much more. We win this war, and we keep our pride, we keep our dignity, but perhaps most important-" He paused, suddenly lowering his tone. "If we emerge victorious, we will keep what mankind has held most dear for generations." His searching eyes roved over the silent, enraptured crowd. He could see it in their expressions, their faces, he could see the stubborn inspiration that lit them up, brought out the fight, and he knew then and there, that these people, these young men and women, would die for this.

"We keep our freedom."

They would die for their world.

New York 28 May 2167 14:05

A horrible screaming echoed in the halls, and Jacky ran. He slipped on the bloody floors, cursing. He knew someone was following him. They wouldn't just let him go after what he'd done.

He leapt to his feet, swallowing the feeling of hopelessness that was lodged in his stomach.

"Get him!" He heard a screech. "Get him!"

He sobbed, blindly fumbling on the wall for the elevator button. "Come on." He whispered. "Come on!"

"He's there!"

Jacky ducked. He knew what was coming. He glanced upwards as the beam of light crashed above him. He turned without watching, firing rapidly at whoever was behind him. He heard a scream, and the lift doors opened- he practically fell in, pressing the down icon. Almost vomiting, he let his eyes wander over the previous occupants of the small room The stench of blood was thick, and he pressed his hand over his mouth and nose, gazing as if in a trance.

Because it was so, so horrible.

The bodies were decapitated, limbs strewn, arms pulled from the sockets. The eyes were open, faces permanently frozen in an expression of terror. Jacky groaned in shock. He was seventeen, and probably scarred for life.

If he didn't get out of there soon he'd die.

Manhattan 26 May 2167 16:43

"Listen to me!" Growled Rodrick, "You have to listen!" He shook the boy senseless.

"Yes- yes!" Yelped the kid.

"Dammit Jack!" Rodrick snapped. "If you don't understand this next part-"

"Okay!" Jacky looked a ground before staring into his older brother's eyes. "I'm listening. I'll be fine."

Rodrick stalked away, sucking in a long breath, and then finally turning around again. "I don't know why the hell I'm letting you do this."

"You can't stop me!" Jacky snapped. "I'm an adult, I can do what I want!"

"I should do it."  
>"It was my idea!"<p>

"That's why you're gonna get hurt!"

Jacky froze. "So you should get hurt?"

"I didn't say that."

"Yes you did."

"Look." Rodrick whispered finally. "I love you okay? Kiddo?"

Jacky swallowed, probably to stop himself from crying. "Sure. I do too."

Rodrick sighed, resigned. "Remind me why you're doing this, anyway. Because if you just want to be a hero, then-"

"I'm not."

"Jack-"

"No." Jacky glowered at his brother. "No, they killed Mom, they killed Dad! What other reason do you need? They-" He stopped. "They murdered Sofia. Strung her up on a washing line! Did you know she had evidence of rape on her? Did you know that?"

"You're seventeen! Jesus Jacky, you're not a soldier! You're not supposed to be fighting! And you're not an adult! You're a kid! A kid!" Rodrick slammed his hand against the wall. "You're going to end up dead! Did you know that?"

"As long as I bring some of them with me."

Rodrick turned, and fled from the room.

An Undisclosed Location in the Yorkshire Moors 5 June 2167 10:00

"Samson."

Samson started, and turned around. The man before him stood stiffly, his face was grim. Though he could not have been older than twenty-five, yet his face was lined with years of battle.

"Sir, I come bearing… less than fortunate news."

"I figured as much." Samson's dark eyes glinted. "What is it this time?"

"The President is dead."

Though he'd been expecting an occurrence such as this at some point, the blood drained from his face, and he would have fallen, had it not been for the young man at his side.

"What- how- how is...everyone?" Was all he managed to get out.

"Naturally, the world is in turmoil." The officer shook his head sadly. "The sense of morale has all but disappeared. I fear that- that-" He swallowed convulsively. "The only option now for us, sir, for even a hope of survival…. I think our only choice is to surrender."

Samson grabbed the man- no, boy- by the shoulders, and shook him. "What are you saying? We should- we should give in? Never! Never!"

The man, who was named Davy, cowered, before squaring up to face the other head on. "If we don't, we die!" He hissed.

"If we do, we die!" Samson snarled, his grip on the officer's collar tightening. "These… these things, they will exterminate us! The least we could do is fight back!"

Davy looked at him suddenly, his expression full of fear. "We are down to thirty percent of our men, and that is inclusive of the ones who have turned eighteen in the past four years." He tugged at his ginger hair. "This is madness I tell you! The President is dead. You are the only one who can give the order for surrender. They've won!"

Samson closed his eyes. "Never say that!"

"It's true." The young man mumbled, before sinking onto the couch under the window. "They've won. They have."

"No." Samson whispered. "There's a way. There has to be a way…"  
>"If so, then what?" Davy raised his eyes to meet the elder's, a haunted look on his face. "The things they can do-" he swallowed convulsively. "'The things they have done-" He clutched at his sleeves, something akin to a sob wracking through his body. "You haven't been out there like I have- haven't seen-"<p>

"You-" Samson's expression was one of cold fury and he swore. "Don't forget I am still your senior, Davy. How did I get to this position?"

Tears streamed down the officer's cheeks. "They're mad." He whispered. "They truly are. They're inhumane. When a battle is finished, all you can see are bones, and blood, and, and-" He broke off, suddenly looking so young. "Sir, I wasn't trying to discredit you, but you're the strategist and, you really don't know."

Samson felt like a horrible human being, but he had to get the figures. "Miami? What happened there?"

"Two hundred thousand dead, sir."

Two hundred thousand. It was a ridiculous amount for just one battle. So many killed. So many lives wasted.

"What-" Samson swallowed, loathing himself for asking this question. "What are their methods of execution?"

Davy sucked in a quick breath, but pulled himself together, rising steadily from the couch, and gaining the same stiff stance as earlier. "Just one flash and the person is dead. The torture light, the-"

"I know about those." Samson interrupted. "Are there any new occurrences?"

Davy frowned, and then his expression cleared. "I remember, I mean, everything was happening so fast, but there's one where-" He stopped.

"Where what?" Samson probed gently.

"They're blown to bits." Davy spoke hurriedly. "I mean, it's like swallowing dynamite and lighting the fuse. It's relatively new, I think. They only used it in Miami, I think and Dallas, and I heard rumours of Saint Petersburg and Wellington, and perhaps Islamabad."

Samson felt a migraine coming on.

New York May 28 2167 13:58

Loop the red wire around the blue wire. Slide disk thirty-three between the aluminum bolts.

Clamp the metal.

Wait for the signal.

Jacky froze. One. Two. Three.

Red Flash.

Run.

An Undisclosed Location in the Yorkshire Moors 5 June 2167 10:08

"Anything else?"

"Um, yes sir."

"What now?"

"Well, a few days ago- it's about a week now, really- what with all the news channels scrambled- and-"

"Spit it out."

"A kid blew up the empire state building."


End file.
